Teen Wolf: Savage Roots
Chapter 4 — The Tunnel
The room was loud.
Voices overlapping. Questions stacking on top of questions. Fear hiding behind sarcasm.
At the center of it all, Stiles Stilinski stood over the map, pointing at random spots like he actually had a plan.
"Alright," Stiles said, clearing his throat. "To be honest…"
He paused.
"I don't even know what we're doing."
A beat of silence—
Then Jackson Whittemore let out a laugh.
"And you call yourself smart?"
Stiles slowly turned to him.
"And you call yourself a hybrid?"
A few people chuckled.
Jackson rolled his eyes.
"Oh wow, still hilarious."
Scott stepped forward with a sigh.
"Alright—stop."
The room quieted.
Scott McCall looked at each of them.
"Someone is trying to destroy the balance between the supernatural… and humans."
That landed heavier.
The humor faded.
From the side, Isaac Lahey spoke up.
"That's why I came back."
Everyone turned to him.
"I woke up two days ago," Isaac continued, "and there was blood in front of my door."
He swallowed.
"It said… I'm coming for all of you."
Silence filled the room.
Behind them, Alan Deaton stepped forward, holding a small crystal vial.
Inside it—dark red blood swirled slowly.
"This blood is human," Deaton said carefully.
"But whatever killed them…"
He paused.
"It wasn't normal."
Scott frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Deaton looked closer.
"The wound suggests a blade. Something sharp. Clean."
His voice lowered.
"But there's something else in it."
The room leaned in.
"Darkness."
That word lingered.
Scott turned slightly, his eyes drifting toward the window.
Something clicked.
His expression changed.
"The tunnel," he said quietly.
Stiles blinked.
"The what?"
Scott looked at Lydia Martin.
"Lydia… can you give me the paper? The one you wrote—about death… the deep sea."
Lydia nodded and reached into her bag, pulling out the crumpled paper.
She handed it to Scott.
He grabbed it quickly—
But it was upside down.
Scott frowned… then slowly tilted it.
The room went still.
The words shifted.
Not physically—
But the meaning changed.
The phrases overlapped, aligned, connected—
Forming something new.
A direction.
All eyes moved to the map.
The words pointed directly at one location.
An old, forgotten place.
The tunnel.
Allison Argent exhaled softly.
"…Damn."
No one spoke after that.
Because they all knew.
That's where it started.
---
Far from the clinic…
At Beacon Hills High School—
"COME ON, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"
Coach's voice echoed across the field.
The lacrosse team ran in chaos, gear clanking as they sprinted.
Coach stormed forward, stopping one student mid-run.
"JOHN!"
The kid froze, gasping for air.
"Yes, Coach?"
Coach leaned in.
"My dead grandmother could run faster than you carrying that!"
He pointed dramatically.
"Do you think you can do better than my OLD DEAD GRANDMOTHER?"
John nodded, terrified.
"Yes, Coach!"
"THEN MOVE!"
John took off running, red hair bouncing wildly.
Coach turned—
And spotted Eli Hale walking casually.
Coach sighed deeply.
"Eli…"
Eli looked up.
"Huh, Coach?"
Coach stepped closer.
"You feeling better after… everything?"
Eli nodded.
"Yeah."
Coach clapped his hands once.
"Great. Because these past games?"
He leaned in.
"You've been straight trash."
Eli scratched the back of his head.
"I know."
"I want you to do your best," Coach continued, pointing dramatically. "Like Greenberg."
Eli hesitated.
"Yeah… about Greenberg… I wanted to talk to you about him."
Coach narrowed his eyes.
"What did he do now?"
"It's not like that," Eli said quickly. "But… when you look at him…"
He lowered his voice.
"He looks too old to be in high school."
Coach froze.
Slowly turned.
"What?"
"I mean—does he even have the age to be here?" Eli added.
Coach exploded.
"IF I AM TEACHING HIGH SCHOOL—GREENBERG WILL BE THERE!"
Eli flinched.
"IF I RETIRE—GREENBERG RETIRES! YOU HEAR ME?!"
"Yes, Coach!"
"THEN MOVE!"
Eli ran.
Coach watched him go…
Then smiled proudly.
"I really am the best coach in the world."
---
Later that day…
The forest was quiet.
Too quiet.
Leaves crunched underfoot as Liam Dunbar forced open the rusted entrance to the underground tunnel.
Beside him, Stiles held a flashlight.
"Do we really have to do this?" Stiles asked.
Liam smirked.
"Nope."
Then he shoved the door open.
It creaked loudly.
Stiles smiled.
"Finally, someone with bad decision-making skills like me."
They stepped inside.
Darkness swallowed them instantly.
Their footsteps echoed.
Loud.
Hollow.
Unnatural.
Stiles sniffed.
"…Is it me," he muttered, "or does this place smell like death?"
Liam covered his nose.
"No."
He grimaced.
"It smells like shit."
They walked deeper.
Then—
Liam froze.
Stiles bumped into him.
"What—"
"Shh."
Liam tilted his head.
Listening.
"There's another heartbeat."
Stiles stiffened.
"What do you mean another—"
"Someone's here."
Liam took off running.
"STILES—FOLLOW ME!"
"WAIT—WHY ARE WE RUNNING TOWARD IT?!"
They turned left. Then right. Then deeper into the tunnel.
The air grew colder.
Heavier.
Then—
They stopped.
And saw it.
A body.
A man barely alive.
His hand—gone.
His eye—missing.
Blood everywhere.
He gasped weakly.
Trying to breathe.
Liam rushed forward.
"Hey! Hey—stay with me!"
Stiles froze for a second—
The blood.
Too much.
His vision blurred.
"Stiles!" Liam shouted.
That snapped him out of it.
Stiles dropped beside him, pressing down on the wound.
"Stay with us, okay? Stay with us!"
Liam placed his hand on the man, trying to absorb the pain—
But it was too much.
The man's body went still.
Liam pulled back.
His hands shook.
"…No."
His eyes flashed yellow.
"He did this," Liam growled. "Whoever did this—"
"Liam," Stiles said carefully.
Liam breathed heavily.
Then slowly calmed down.
His eyes returned to normal.
"…Look at his head," Liam said.
Stiles leaned closer.
There—
Burned into the skin—
A mark.
A symbol.
🔘
Liam stepped back immediately.
He looked at Stiles.
"…Hell no."
Stiles didn't argue.
Because for once…
He completely agreed.